Gone
by Baliansword
Summary: snipet: The love between them was gone.
1. Gone

**Title**: Gone 

**Author**: Baliansword 

**Rating**: PG-13 

**Warnings**: Angst. Likely sexual content, violence, language to come later. 

**Chapter**: 1 of unknown, "Gone" 

**Summary**: Excerpt –there was no love between them, not now, not so far away from where they had first set eyes upon one another. The love was gone, and all around them knew it, but neither was willing to mention it. The vacancy instead remained between them. 

**A/N**: Back to my roots, let me know what you think.

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The grains of sand do not deceive, and nor did the light of the hall as the gallant general entered, cup in a hand, the other placed on his side as he stepped further through the crowds. His movements were fluid, but all around him could see that he favored his right, due to the long scar that ran over his thigh, a war wound that had perchance never properly healed. There had been no time for the injury to recover, and he would not have given it the time even if an eternity had awaited him. No, it was take the injury, wash it clean, have the physician stitch is quickly, and then he was on his way, helping those in need, fretting over the needs of his king. But it was not only his right that he favored. His entire body seemed to wither, or perhaps, it was the soul inside. The air about him was gone, as if it had been beaten from him in each battle, knocked about and kicked by each passing solider. As he placed his hand upon Ptolemy's shoulder, the thick calluses on his palm were visible, the dried skin, his sore and tired fingers. Still, the rest of him seemed weathered by age. His muscles still made his body envious, but he no longer had a boyish charm. He was a man now, old to the youths that looked up to him. His hair was fraying at the ends, jagged from uneven cutting, and the beard he wore showed that he no longer cared –or not as much as he had in previous years. No, his eyes gave it away; still a cerulean blue like the Mediterranean, but his soul was almost extinguished from them. They at times seemed sunken in, his forehead wrinkling from his concentration. Old, yes; the beauty of his youth gone, perhaps. But still, the king could not look away from him. Continuing on his way, his head down, no longer gazing at the horizon, he made his way to a column, where he took his place, back to the world, back to the others, and most importantly, back to his king. It was a subtle sign, something that the men surrounding him, who now laughed and toasted with him, would not have understood. Yet for Alexander, it was cutting into him deeper than any knife bore by enemy hand could have. It was a searing, blinding, unthinkable pain, to know that Hephaestion, to him, was gone. 

The love between them was gone, in simplest terms. It was not to be blamed on either party, but instead, the mutuality of the arrangements now made had been surprising. Where once Hephaestion would have accompanied him to his rooms, secretly, long after the rest of the men were slurring their words, he now remained with the slurring men until he retired to his own rooms, alone. Where Alexander once longed for his touch at every waking moment, he would not turn to others, insuring that he was never alone, but instead, surrounded by too many visitors, too many lovers, and now, too many wives. While he noted Hephaestion's changes, he was unable to deny that he too had changed, so many years from home. His hair frayed at the ends, long and draping his shoulders. Circles under his eyes plagued him, as did the worry lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. They had now crawled across his forehead. He too was older, so much older, than he had been before, and with this he feared he had gained no true knowledge of the world around him. Yes, he knew countries, knew war, but not his closest friends, his allies, former lovers, or even, he fretted, himself. Raising his cup, noting the scar on the back of his thumb, he took a drink and continued to watch Hephaestion as he merrily drank with Ptolemy, Cassander, and others of the Companions. The realization that they were really Hephaestion's Companions had struck him upside the head long ago; were there a choice in the matter they would choose Hephaestion long before Alexander. Personality played a key factor, since he knew and understood now that he was so close to becoming a tyrant, but also, Hephaestion had always been the better man. He had defeated Alexander in every way, including love, honor, valor, and friendship. He had surpassed him a thousand times, but still he remained, a general, protecting a king and former lover that would have long since sent him home, if only to get through to him. 

"He seems pleased with himself," his current companion said, drawing the king's eyes away from Hephaestion, away from the past, and back to her, the present, and he was beginning to fear, the future. Roxanne hated Hephaestion, though she would often try to deny it to him. She had hated him from their first night together, upon finding Hephaestion there before her, tears in his eyes, handing a ring to Alexander, who had appeared equally distressed. When she looked at him, or said his name, her lip curled up, over her teeth, as if she were a mountain jaguar ready to tear his flesh away from him. Alexander rubbed a hand over his eyes, and then set his cup down, already feeling the affects of its previous elixirs. 

"Should he be anything else? It would not kill you to appreciate what he does," Alexander hissed back, swooping down and taking his drink back. Roxanne rolled her eyes, exhaling, and then sunk back in her hardened chair. There was nothing else for her to say, for she had long ago given up trying to please Alexander, had she ever started. Alexander rose, taking his cup with him, and stumbled into the hallway. Unlike months ago, there was no one to help him now, no one to care whether or not he made it to his rooms, or wherever else his feet called him to. Coughing, he flailed onto the balcony, reaching out and gripping the railing, glad that it was tall enough to keep him from tumbling over. He tossed the cup over the balcony though, and dully watched as it struck the ground far below. 

Silence soon enveloped him. The stars above glittered against the dark sky, perhaps ancestors of the fallen, as Hephaestion had long ago suggested in Meiza. Alexander stared up at them for some time, sobering while doing so, though he still felt sick, still felt terrible. Living without Hephaestion was like living without air, in a dark room, where he could scream, cry, and plead endlessly, but no one would ever hear, or care. The stars had shifted in the sky before he returned his gaze to the dark horizon, and as he turned he froze, hoping that the tears that had stung his eyes no longer showed in the fire of the torches placed on the heavy columns. Arms crossed over his chest, holding a thick blanket made of bear-skin, Hephaestion leaned against a pillar, mouth upturned in a half-smile. Oh, how truly amazing he appeared tonight, this apparition that he could not touch, could no longer have. Kohl lined his light eyes, brining them out further from his high cheek bones. The beard would have changed the face of any other man, but it did not change Hephaestion, not in the slightest. It only expressed his disconcertion for the affections of others. Hephaestion did not come closer, but instead held the blanket out, and Alexander stepped forward to take it. He prayed that he could have come in contact with Hephaestion, perhaps their fingers would touch, but instead, nothing. Hephaestion stepped back too soon, uncaring, unknowing, and then made an attempt to leave. 

"I have not properly thanked you," Alexander fumbled, desperate to get Hephaestion to stay, even for the briefest of times, "for your work on the barracks to the Eastern front ahead. They will be much needed as we march on, and, as always, you have overlooked nothing, I am told." 

"Congratulate your architects," Hephaestion negated, again crossing his arms over his chest. It was his only way of protecting himself against Alexander, and both men knew this. His arms, which had once held Alexander lovingly, were now forcible barriers, bars that caged Hephaestion away from him, bars that for months had been impenetrable. He aimlessly began to gnaw at his inner lip, and in truth, it drove Alexander mad in more ways than one. 

"Architects did not save ten men when a beam collapsed upon them, nearly killing them," Alexander countered. 

"No. You can thank your doctors for that. Had they not been there, the men would have surely passed through the river Styx. I merely helped remove the beam. The true talent was from the salves your Eastern doctors created from dirt and sap, not the strength of your generals." 

"I remember a time when everything was not so difficult with you." 

"Forgive me," Hephaestion then said, bowing slightly as he turned. Alexander turned, eager to reach out, to latch on to his wrist and pull him back, as he had done a thousand times, but he was unable to do so. Instead, Hephaestion briskly strode away, off into the dimly lit hallway, where he would likely retire to his room. Alexander cursed under his breath, hating how foolish he was. Had he said nothing Hephaestion would still remain, and while it would be unpleasant silence that would pass between them, that silence was a gift compared to the isolation he now felt. However, before he was too alone, he heard someone approaching. His heart sunk, knowing that Hephaestion would have been silent, but as he glanced up he felt some comfort in seeing curly-haired Ptolemy, who was wise beyond his years. The other stood beside him, leaning forward on the balcony as well, and glanced to his king. 

"Does Hephaestion still trouble you," Ptolemy asked, already knowing the answer, but knowing it was not his place to butt in if Alexander did not wish him the information. His king then sighed and ran a hand through his hair, clearly distraught tonight more than the last. It seemed to get worse and worse each day, the animosity between the once star-crossed lovers, and Ptolemy knew that soon enough Alexander would collapse inward upon himself. 

"Where have I gone so wrong," Alexander asked. "One day we are together, fine, as if nothing could ever come between us, and the next he treats me like I am…" 

"His king," Ptolemy finished. "Alexander, you have your days confused. It is not as if yesterday you were speaking, and today he is merely your general and you his king. No, Hephaestion has been distancing himself from you for weeks, but you were too busy to notice."

"Why? Why does he feel he needs to leave me?" 

"Do not be so dramatic," Ptolemy warned. "Hephaestion has not, and will not, leave you. To leave would be to return to Macedonia, which we both know he will never do, for no matter how much he wants to distance himself, he will not put any real distance between you." 

"But why? What have I done that is so wrong, for surely it is something everyone but I can see. I have treated him as my equal, as my successor should I fall, as a friend, a lover Ptolemy, I love him. And he suddenly finds that I am not to his liking, as if I were a platter of food that is too salty and in such he'll never touch again?" 

"Roxanne is not helping matters between the two of you." 

"He understands Roxanne." 

"Oh, does he? I could have been mistaken," Ptolemy retorted before taking a sip from his cup. "Let us say that he does understand Roxanne, and that the five second conversation you had with him in her regards was a meeting of the minds. Perchance he will forgive Roxanne for filling your bed and time, like he forgave Stateira and Barsine. Yet Bagoas, Alexander? Tell me that he should turn and look the other way when you flaunt your love of Bagoas." 

"I flaunt…"

"Arguing is pointless. You have him dance for you in open ceremony and meet him with kisses. Did it occur to you that you've never once made such a gesture before a crowd for Hephaestion. Say not that he would not let you, because I know Hephaestion and the respect he harbors and protects for you, but instead, think upon it. For years you were so careful with Hephaestion, hiding your love for one another, barely touching or even glancing at one another in Pella. And now, trust me, many know, but still you keep it to yourselves. I know the motives; Hephaestion protects your honor, you deep down know that to love Hephaestion openly is dangerous. Yes, you protect one another, but what of Bagoas? He is a Persian whore, that is his title Alexander, and you would rather embrace him than Hephaestion. Is there no shame in such? Perhaps not for you, a king, but do you think that Hephaestion feels no shame when you flaunt that boy around?" 

"Again," Alexander anxiously sighed, "he is another matter."

"For you, he would be. But for Hephaestion, he is the simplest matter in the world. And let us not forget, while Hephaestion builds your bridges and barracks, he goes to bed alone while you have warm bodies to fill you beds. He knows these bodies, and he envies them, despite what you would think. Do you know what the true problem between you is?"

"What?"

"It is that Hephaestion understands you." 

"Oh, explain," Alexander grouched, tossing himself down onto a chair. It was not his wrongs that disturbed him, but the fact that he had known all along that he was wrong. Somewhere his heart had tried to guide him, but like the brutish bull-headed man he was he'd ignored his sense of love, and instead vowed to appease other needs. 

"He understands your needs, far beyond even you can. He looks at you sometimes, and already knows what you're going to say, to do, and while it scares me, it condemns him. When we entered Bactra, he saw Roxanne, and he knew before you did that she would be your new wife. He knew that this time, it would be different, that you might actually harbor feelings for her, so he did what only a great man would do. He stepped back, and let you have her. Has it occurred to you how hard that would have been? Had he come to you and asked to wed her, you would have said yes, and he would have locked her away, and there would be no rift between you. But instead, he let you have her, and let himself be pushed away, subtly perhaps, but away. He's given for you a thousand times, and you know not about it. Oh, what a fool you are Alexander, to sit here and act as if he has left you. Did you not stop to think that perhaps, miles ago, you left him?" 

Meanwhile, Hephaestion was no more pleased with himself than Alexander. Cross legged on his bed, he gazed down at the map before him, turning it ever so slightly and then leaning forward on himself, touching a river and trailing it with his finger. He pulled it further down, finding the delta, and then raised an eyebrow. Looking over the map again, he retraced the path before folding the map in half and tossing it over the edge of the bed. There were piles of maps now, some merely folded, others gently rolled again, but they all had the same dilemma. None were entirely correct. Sighing, he picked up his cup of water and took a sip, but not before there was a knock at the door. He set the cup down and called out for the rapper to enter, and when the door opened he was almost surprised to see long-haired Cassander, who seemed perfectly content with his cups for the night. 

"We are going boar hunting," Cassander announced, throwing a hand to the wind, as if he were about to be knighted. Hephaestion smirked, and removed himself from his bed, setting the pen at his side back on its ink-stand. Silently, he reached out and placed a hand on Cassander's shoulder and pressed firmly against him, and then pushed him down and onto a chair in the room. 

"I think it would be unwise." 

"Unwise," Cassander snorted. "What do you mean? We are all going, I was just sent to find you. Come, Nearchus and Perdiccas are going as well. Hurry, before Alexander hears and spoils things again, like last time." 

"Cassander," Hephaestion whispered, "there are no boars out tonight. We are not in Macedonia. I think it would be wise, with the amount of deadly snakes brought out by the rain that you stay in the palace for a night. We'll hunt another time, I promise." 

Cassander sat for a moment, and suddenly it seemed to dawn upon him that Hephaestion was right. He laughed for a moment, and then shook his head. He stood, still swaying heavily to the side, but took Hephaestion's outstretched hand. It was always Hephaestion to be the reasonable one, to remind him where they were, and what was a bad idea, given certain circumstances. Drawing in a breath he nodded, and then placed a hand on Hephaestion's shoulder. 

"Are you really promising?" 

"Soon." 

"And you think that you will see the day when we turn and head back for Macedonia," Cassander asked, raising an eyebrow. Hephaestion nodded after a brief moment and then helped Cassander to the door. 

"You know," Cassander said, "without you he is nothing. He is a king, perhaps, but still an incomplete man. You really should try to mend things with him, especially if you are so worried about your health." 

"There is nothing to mend," Hephaestion assured him for the thousandth time. "Alexander is my king, and I serve as his general. Apart from this, there can no longer be anything between us. You and I both know that to love a great man is to become his shadow in the grains of time. And should I not live to see the day we turn back, then, it was not meant to be. You can accompany Alexander back to Pella, and Cassander, try to get him to remain there for at least a year before he conquers to the west." 

"I hate you. No, don't smirk at me, I really do hate you. You have the world and you would give it to him. Ah, Hephaestion, what I would have given to be your friend." 

"You are my friend." 

"No," Cassander sighed as he stepped into the hall, "I am not." 

Hephaestion shook his head and shut the door. As he turned he felt dizziness slip into his mind, and as he reached up to rub his forehead he felt the warmth of blood upon his lip. Reaching up, he wiped the drops of blood away from his upper lip and found a strip of cloth on his nightstand. Quickly he pressed it against his nose, holding it for a moment, and waited for the blood to stop. Removing the cloth, he tossed it into a bin, onto a pile of balled up parchment –a letter he had been trying to write a thousand times. Still, his words were gone. There was nothing he could say to Alexander now. 


	2. Distance

Title: Gone

**Title**: Gone

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: PG-13

**Warnings**: Angst. Likely sexual content, violence, language to come later.

**Chapter**: 2 of unknown, "Distance"

**Summary**: Excerpt –there was no love between them, not now, not so far away from where they had first set eyes upon one another. The love was gone, and all around them knew it, but neither was willing to mention it. The vacancy instead remained between them.

**A/N**: Back to my roots, let me know what you think.

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The rocky surface of the wall did not bother his cheek as he pressed up against the shadows, watching silently, and feeling horribly for doing so. Yet it had come to this, secrets bred with betrayal of the deepest kind. Had someone done this to him, he knew that they would be swiftly punished, to an extent that they would not return from, but as he did it, for some reason it felt right. His hand slid lower down the column, scraping against the pebbles, and in doing so he knew that he would be discovered. The man beside the horse did not seem to take notice, but instead continued to place the blanket over the back of the animal. As if he had all the time in the world, he then picked up a brush and ran it over the stallion's neck, and in response the horse jerked its head and utter a soft approval. It was as the mount did this that the man turned his head, glancing over his shoulder. In his eyes it could be read that he knew his spy gazed upon him now, but Alexander did not see this look. Instead, he removed his hand from the column as he quickly retracted from the scene. Turning away, and cursing under his breath, he ran a hand through his hair, and let Hephaestion continue his grooming. The king did not want to believe that his general would do anything but continue to travel forward, to secure small areas of land for barracks and storage, but the man did not want to see his truest companion go. It was too late to remove himself from the area entirely though, for Hephaestion had already come around the corner with the brush in his hand.

"You never were one for stealth," Hephaestion stated, placing the brush into a basket containing other grooming combs. Upon doing so he again turned and lifted a lock of hair away from his eyes, and then continued on his path toward the horse. Alexander noted how thick his beard appeared in the sun's rays, but also how it remained shining, like the rest of his tresses. Alexander slowly turned and followed Hephaestion's every step, needing to be near him, even if it were in hostility.

"I did not ask you to go forward," Alexander said, knowing for certain that he had made sure Hephaestion was not listed among the tasks of generals. He was not to leave, not to maintain rations. Alexander had made sure that Hephaestion's name was free from any duty, giving him time to rest from his return, but also, to hopefully calm and remember that he did indeed love him. So far, this had been to no avail, as Hephaestion always managed to slip away, scouting or building, anything that would keep him from Alexander's confines. Was he so wrong, to want to restore what had been broken between himself and Hephaestion? He could no longer tell himself that he was right in the matter, for the longer the silence increased between them, the more guilt he felt, though he still could not grasp entirely what he had done wrong.

"No," Hephaestion replied, pulling the reins over the charger's head, "but I think it would be wisest to go with Titus and the men. Titus has the makings for a general, but he still cannot hold complete control, Alexander. I will go with them, but don't worry, Titus will lead them. I'll be mere moral support, an observer, nothing more."

"Nothing else," the king retorted, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. For the longest time he had worried that Hephaestion's distance had nothing to do with an event, but instead he had lost interest in him. There was a silence as Hephaestion again glanced over his shoulder, but this time he dropped the reins and made his way past the king. Nothing he could have said would soothe Alexander's troubles, but in all fairness to the cerulean-eyed general, he did not know the internal struggle troubling Alexander.

"I would like it if you stayed."

"You don't need me here," Hephaestion replied, tiredness straining his voice. He reached up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, but still, it made him feel no better. Continuing through the stable, he stopped at the end, eager to pull the grand doors open and ride off into the distance, away from Alexander, away from the pain that he saw when he looked at him, and away from the only man that could rip his heart out, bloody it, and then place it back inside of him while he still lived. The son of a god, perhaps, but it was not Zeus, it was Hades, or a scorned sister of Aphrodite perhaps. Yet as his hand rested against the door, another fell upon it, causing him to turn and stare directly into Alexander's darkened eyes, jointly shared between the lack of light and otherwise attributed to his rage.

Alexander's eyes bore into him before he spoke, "Tell me that you do not want to be here, and I will let you leave. Tell me that when you look at me you feel nothing, that you would rather risk death than risk having to spend another moment with me. Spare me the wonder, the tempest, Hephaestion. Throw me into a sea of despair now, and let me drown as you ride away."

Hephaestion could not bear to tell Alexander that he no longer loved him, for he did love him. It was no longer traditional love, but instead, a love that was deeply hidden within his soul. This time he would not give in to temptation; he would remain strong and keep his heart secured away from Alexander. He was a general. He was king. He kept repeating this new relationship, but each time it seemed more dismal, so far away from lovers and friends. Reaching out, unable to speak, he placed a hand against Alexander's cheek. Leaning forward, he pressed a quick kiss against his forehead, but at the same time, with a free hand, slid past Alexander's hand and pushed the door open. The brief kiss gone, he stepped out the door, and as he did so his stallion, trained well by Arab sheiks, followed after him. Alexander was left to stare after him.

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The sun bore down on him as he removed the bridal from the stallion, allowing him to then saunter off into the wooded area. As the horse took his leave of him he made his way through the parted grass, reaching out and running a hand over the tips of the blades. He'd not taken time to enjoy anything in these new lands, not truly. There had been moments when he looked out upon them, longingly perhaps, but he'd never felt the dirt in his hands if it was not bloodied. He'd not smelled the intricately patterned flowers, tasted the juices in vines, no, he had done none of this. It was in good esteem that he was able to do so now, and though he was not far from the palace, it felt liberating. Finding his way back to the small tent he had set up, he let himself fall to the ground. He liked the feeling of falling, falling against something that caught him, falling against the world, and then, nothing but sky. The sun still bore down upon him, but the heavy trees above shielded his eyes enough to keep them open. A small bird took to the branches, hopping here and there, and it caused Hephaestion to smile. The wind then began to blow, and as it did so he pushed himself up, allowing him to see the deer that had come across his path. It was darker than any he had ever seen, almost black he would believe, and its rack was large. It seemed to take note of him, a foot stopping in mid-air, but he then placed his foot down before turning and bounding away. Hephaestion could not help but smile like a child, but after a moment, he heard something else, coming from the opposite direction. His attention now to his left, he pushed himself up, wrapping a hand around the dagger at his side. But he immediately exhaled as Ptolemy awkwardly stepped on a branch, causing it to snap loudly. Ptolemy seemed to smirk as he lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting Hephaestion's. Hephaestion crossed his arms over his chest and then shook his head, turning away as if it would make the other disappear.

"Did you think he'd not send someone to watch you?"

"I know his boldness," Hephaestion affirmed, "but I did not know that it had become so broad. Does he think that I am sneaking away for another? Of course he does," he answered himself, running a hand through his hair. "Is it too much that I can no longer…"

"No longer what," Ptolemy prompted. "That you no longer love him? That you no longer want him to walk over you like one of his rugs? Or, is it something else?"

"Don't try to get into my mind. I'll not have it."

"I'm not trying anything, I was only asking as a friend. There was a time, I remember it well, when we were friends and spoke as if there were no politics. I'll tell you again, as always, your troubles are safe with me. Have I ever betrayed you before?"

"Forgive me, my patience seems to be gone in these lands. Perhaps I lost it long ago. Time has weathered me, old friend."

"No," Ptolemy laughed, taking a seat on the grass. "I think it has more to do with your health, and not just physically, though you're beginning to look a mess."

Hephaestion seemed startled by this comment. For some time he had felt sick, but only recently was he succumbing to the heat of the East. The blood, which from time to time came with a cough, had lessened, and after coming from desert lands, he had declared it only part of the transition to wetter lands. Ptolemy was wise though, he had to admit, wise enough to have noticed the change in his behaviors. First he had stopped drinking most wine, making few exceptions, and then he had done away with meat. Now his diet consisted of mixed beans and water is seemed, fruit an addition when it was available. But still, could Ptolemy truly tell?

"I've seen it," was the other's answer. "How long ago did it start?"

"Say nothing to Alexander."

"I vow it."

"Two months ago, perhaps a bit more. I've seen one physician, but he cannot tell me what it is that troubles me. Perhaps I have angered the gods. Perhaps it is merely my Fate, to die young, like heroic Patroclus. But it does not matter, does it, truly? If it cannot be named, it cannot be fixed. Telling Alexander would only distract him from everything else at hand."

"Say again that you do not love him," Ptolemy laughed. He shook his head vigorously for a moment, still laughing all the while. "You both are the same when you hate each other. Whining about how much you want to strangle the other, but still, protecting each other from harm."

"Just do not tell him. And do not tell him where I am."

"I won't," Ptolemy said, standing and embracing Hephaestion momentarily. "However, I do not think he would be wise enough to search so close to the palace. A half-hour ride is nothing, no distance between you. But," he sighed, "I am sure it feels like miles."

Hephaestion could only agree with him in silence.


	3. Perception

Title: Gone

**Title**: Gone

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: PG-13

**Warnings**: Angst. Likely sexual content, violence, language to come later.

**Chapter**: 3 of unknown, "Perception"

**Summary**: Excerpt –there was no love between them, not now, not so far away from where they had first set eyes upon one another. The love was gone, and all around them knew it, but neither was willing to mention it. The vacancy instead remained between them.

**A/N**: Back to my roots, let me know what you think.

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Light shifted into the room, filling the open space and lighting up the darkened walls, stained with colors made from herbs and berries. The drapes moved slowly in the breeze, but it still seemed dreadfully hot. It was hard to comprehend how the climate changed so quickly in these lands, from rains one day to scorching dirt the next. Alexander ran a hand over his head and drank deeply from the goblet of water before he turned to the messenger boy. He'd been drinking for at least a good minute, and clearly was thankful for the refreshment. His cheeks had lost their redness from the heat and his heaving for air had subsided, but still, he drank until the king turned to face him. Placing his cup down, he bowed his head once again, and then waited for his orders.

"Tell me," Alexander began, resting against the back of a large chair. "How is progress on this new granary? Does Hephaestion fare well?"

"Sir, the granary is on schedule, as are the barracks and other temporary stalls for the horses, my lord. But, but I fear that Hephaestion did not travel with us, not to my knowledge. Titus leads us, no other, not that I know."

"Hephaestion is not with you," Alexander flared, almost reaching out and taking his anger out of the youth. He knew better though, and instead ran a hand through his hair, tempted to pull it out. He removed his hand, running it over his mouth with a curse, and then looked back to the boy.

"Did he ride out with Titus," the king asked quickly.

"No," the boy negated, shaking his head slightly. For a moment he considered whether or not it would benefit him to tell Alexander that he had indeed seen Hephaestion leaving on the same day as they had. However, Hephaestion had most definitely gone in the opposite direction. He'd likely spoken to Titus about the event, for Titus had told the men to act as if they'd seen nothing. While many held no loyalty to Titus, they certainly held respect for Hephaestion, and in honor would say nothing. Yet, he knew that this was his king, who could swiftly and rightly kill him if he said not. It was tough, deciding which many to betray.

"Did you see him on your departure?"

"Yes," the youth admitted. Now that the king had asked there was no way that he was willing to risk his life. Hephaestion, he knew, was in no danger with Alexander. It was out of concern that the king was raging now. He cared deeply for this general, and who could blame him? Not only was Hephaestion the ideal specimen of a man, but he was also loyal. Loyalty, all knew, was hard to find.

"I saw him," the boy went on, "as we were preparing to leave with Titus. The general prepared his horse, and after doing so, he did ride out of the gates with us. Conversationally he spoke to Titus, but then he veered away, without explanation. I thought perhaps he had scouted on, but when he did not appear, I asked Titus if a search should be sent. Titus assured me no, that Hephaestion had other business on your demand."

"Did he?"

"On my life."

"No," Alexander waved him off, "I wasn't speaking to you. Thank you, messenger. Please, take your rest in the palace tonight. Fill your stomach before leaving on the morrow."

The boy left, much to Alexander's pleasure. It gave him a moment to knock his goblet off of the table before cursing loudly and slamming a hand down on the table. Tossing his head against the table, sighing heavily, he then waited until he heard another knock upon the door. Spinning, he bade the disruptor enter, but was pleased enough when he saw Nearchus enter. Nearchus came forward and embraced him quickly before stepping away, smiling slightly, and he surely took the cup of wine that Alexander offered. Drinking deeply, allowing the extra drops to trickle down his chin, he kept the king in suspense. After a moment, the cup was set down, and Nearchus took a seat before the king.

"It is good you are returned," Alexander agreed, sitting, all the while trying to push thoughts of Hephaestion from his mind. He wanted so badly to hate him, but knew deep down that he could not. It would be impossibly hard to do so. Nearchus, if he noted the king's distraction, did not let on. Instead, he continued with his cup, but took breaks to speak while filling his gut with the wine he was long deprived of.

"I spoke to the Oracle, and once more she said that Alexander would have many victories. However, there was a warning," the general admitted. Alexander sat forward, and eyebrow raised in interest. Nearchus took another swig, refilling his glass, and then sighed. "I am afraid I can only remember the words, not whom it was she referred to."

"Go on," Alexander urged.

"She answered to your victories first. However, she then said 'The external soul of the king will be taken by the night, the gold faded to black, and the eyes of life gone'. What this means I cannot be sure, but she said that soon enough you would understand. And to correct it, she said to tell you, 'Keep the light of life lit, the flame burning within the heart, and night shall not set'. It makes no sense to me, my king, but perhaps you'll appreciate it soon enough."

"Interesting," Alexander pondered, leaning back and thinking. Once more he sighed, running his hand through his hair and then over his eyes. "I will have to think on it later. For now I have other things on my mind."

"Hephaestion? That is, if I might ask."

"Gone," he replied. "When he rode out I had taken it to mean he was going with Titus, and he'd mentioned it as well. However, the messenger just said that he had never reached the scout's camp with Titus and his men. He parted from them. It worries me, not knowing where he is. I wonder, sometimes, if it will always be like this between us. We are worlds apart, though at times we stand side by side."

Again there was a knock at the door, which caused Alexander to curse before leaping up. He approached the door and then pulled it open, not giving Cassander the opportunity to enter by himself. Cassander did not seem to mind. Instead, he entered and took Alexander's seat, boldly tossing his legs onto the desk. He reached out, taking a peach, and bit into the sweet nectarine, but soon decided that it did not suit his mood, and he set it down. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he noted the glare that Alexander shot at him. Snorting, Cassander rolled his eyes.

"Soothe your troubles," he mocked. "Hephaestion is not far from here. He left the path, true enough, but he appears to be spending a night alone, by himself. There is no other with him. I waited for a good two hours before I decided that watching him mill around was a waste of m time, which, I might remind you, is quite valuable."

"Where is he," Alexander asked.

"A ten minute's walk up the main road, turn at a fallen stump and continue east into the forests. Once you reach the stream, take a left, and follow your way to his encampment. Truly, he does not run from you. There is no other in his life. He merely seems to want seclusion."

"From me?"

"How would I know," Cassander chuckled. "You know, you don't walk up to the person you are spying on and ask him what he is doing. It arouses suspicion. Besides, Alexander, he will be back when Titus and his men begin to return."

Alexander nodded, saying nothing, and then took another drink from his cup. He could only hope that Cassander was right, and no other was joining Hephaestion on this night.

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The night was creeping over him as he lay in the murky waters of the stream. Closing his eyes, he once more sunk beneath the water. As he lifted himself out of the water, crawling over the bank, he lay his back against a flattened stone. It was cool, the air crisp, but it felt better than the weight of his clothes upon his chest. Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes and remained as the wind wafted over him. Then, after a long pause, he felt a cough arising in his throat. Lurching forward he coughed heavily, until a drop of blood speckled the ground. Reaching up, he wiped the blood away, and then pulled his chiton over his chest. Over this he then wrapped himself with a Persian robe before entering his tent. Lying down on the darkened grass, no need for blankets here, he stared upward until his eyes slowly closed. However, when they opened, he stared into the eyes of another.

A/N: Welcome back Jess! Hope your trip was fun. And to all of my reviewers, thank you. Let me know what you think of this chapter. See you in the next!


	4. Blood

Title: Gone

**Title**: Gone

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: PG-13

**Warnings**: Angst. Likely sexual content, violence, language to come later.

**Chapter**: 4 of unknown, "Blood"

**Summary**: Excerpt –there was no love between them, not now, not so far away from where they had first set eyes upon one another. The love was gone, and all around them knew it, but neither was willing to mention it. The vacancy instead remained between them.

**A/N**: Back to my roots, let me know what you think.

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Eyebrow raised, leaning forward, it was easy enough to smell the scent coming from the Greek. He smelled of the soil, of the water from the stream, but there as also a smell of copper, of the blood under his nails, in his nose, the stains that were no longer upon his hands, but would always remain. Leaning in, wrapping a finger around his thick hair, the intruder lifted it, and then sniffed this. It smelled of violet, making him important to Alexander, king of the West and onward. He marched closer, perhaps even now, and it unclear why this man was not with him. He must have been of some importance.

"It is in you."

"What," the Greek asked, ever so carefully placing his hands beneath him, then pushing himself up slowly. This caused the other to back away slowly, but still, there was something about this one that was not dangerous. It was the water of his eyes. He was too ill to fight truly, and perhaps he no longer cared for his life. His face could have given this away.

"Badness, bad air," he answered, leaning in once more, placing a hand upon his cheek. He wore a beard, like a Persian would have done, but she knew that beneath he had to be a beautiful man. "It consumes you like fire, making your belly ash. It will kill you, if you do not rid it from your lungs."

"Who are you," Hephaestion swallowed, still unsure of his situation.

"I am none," the man said, removing his hand and then shaking his head. Reaching to his side, he slid a hand over his own exposed chest. Then, suddenly, he pushed his hand inside of his guts, pulling out an intestine, holding it out. Hephaestion screamed.

Panting, he was now sitting up in the tent, entirely alone. He could seldom remember his dreams when he woke, but this was a nightmare. Coughing, he placed a hand over his mouth, and then listened to the silence of the night. Withdrawing his hand, he looked at the blood seeping into his skin, then trickling off of his palm and onto the ground. Wiping a hand on the grass, he then remained on his back, hoping for sleep. It never came. Soon, the day was above him, and he was saddling his horse once more. On the way back to the palace he thought of Alexander, of what they had shared together, and what they no longer could cherish. Before he reached the palace he pulled from his chiton the cloth that he'd been carrying and dropped it to the ground, its bloody mess no longer beneficial to him. He entered the stable, unsaddled, and then began his walk back into his prison, a tomb that he both loved and feared.

"Did you enjoy your venture," a voice called out from behind him, causing him to stop. He turned, meeting Cassander's peering eyes. It was odd, how dark his eyes were, and now how much they reminded him of the man from his dreams. Cocking his head, crossing his arms over his chest defensively, he sighed and slowly shook his head in negation.

"Without you," he teased, "how could I enjoy anything?"

"The king looks for you."

"If I see him, I will make sure to tell him that I have returned."

"He knows you did not go with Titus."

"And what business is it of yours," Hephaestion asked, now confident enough to continue through the corridors. He did so undisturbed, and after a few turns realized that Cassander was not following. He was glad for this, for when he entered his chambers he pulled back the sheets and fell onto the bed. He'd not even allowed himself time to undress before he shut his eyes and fell into sleep. This time, he was able to dream.

_The wind had lifted the blond hair from his shoulders, shadowing his face, but as always released the prince from its hold. Alexander, arms outstretched, then turned and smirked as Hephaestion edged further out onto the beam. Suspended high from the ground, Hephaestion glanced at the waters below them, but then looked upward into Alexander's face. This always made things better, to stare at him, as if there were no others in the world. _

_"Come," Alexander said, now deliberately walking backwards on the beam, laughing as Hephaestion slowly crept across it. He was bent over, not even brave enough to stand. But then, something odd happened. As soon as Alexander was upon the threshold of land, out of danger of falling over, Hephaestion stopped. He then stood, straightened, and walked across the beam as if he'd practiced all of his life. _

_"Balance," Hephaestion said as he strode past Alexander, back to their picnic under a nearby tree._

_"What does that mean?"_

_"I couldn't risk moving too quickly, now could I? One wrong move, and you could have fallen," Hephaestion answered, sitting down. "I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to you."_

_"Nothing," Alexander assured him, boldly leaning forward and pressing a kiss against his lips. He then pulled away, continuing to stare into Hephaestion's cerulean eyes. "Nothing will separate us Hephaestion, not even death." _

"Hephaestion," a voice bellowed, causing Hephaestion to groggily roll onto his side. Someone shook him, but he was in no mood for it, and batted the hand away. Again he was shaken, and when he rolled onto his back and opened his eyes he stared up at Alexander, who was as furious as ever. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, noting that it was now dark outside once more, Hephaestion pushed himself up, only to have Alexander force him back down harshly.

"Where were you!"

"Does it matter," Hephaestion asked, sitting up and brushing past Alexander. Alexander whirled after him, his face reddening. It was obvious that he wanted to scream, but Hephaestion knew that he was trying to remain calm. He wanted to bridge the gap between him, but Hephaestion knew that this was impossible. It was too late now. The love between them was gone, and while no one would say it, everyone knew it. Even Hephaestion knew, and he would be the last to give Alexander away.

"It does when I ask you!"

"Then I was in the woods," he responded, pouring himself a cup of water. As he set the pitcher down he noticed that Alexander held something in a hand. He tossed it at Hephaestion, and then folded his arms over his chest. Hephaestion raised an eyebrow at the bloodied cloth, but then set it down on the table, uncaring. It was his, yes, but he would not admit to it, not if Alexander did not know. By his stance he knew, Hephaestion could see the victory in his eyes.

"Did you kill someone," Alexander asked arrogantly. "Did you go hunting? Was there some sort of accident? Were you with a woman? A man!"

"No," Hephaestion then laughed, shaking his head. So this was what it was about. He was not glad to see him returned. He did not even wish him gone. He only wished him to be his, and his alone.

"What is wrong with you," Alexander pleaded, finally allowing his lower lip to tremble. He sunk to his knees before Hephaestion in that moment, staring up at him, gripping his hands as if Hephaestion could save him from his world of hurt. Hephaestion knelt and pulled his hand from Alexander's, but Alexander gripped his wrist firmly, and stared at him. Hephaestion's eyes looked the king over. He'd seen something, but Hephaestion knew not what. Then, without hesitance, Alexander reached forward, placing a finger against the corner of his mouth.

"It is nothing," Hephaestion assured him, knowing well enough that it must be blood. Alexander ignored him. Instead, he looked at the blood on the tips of his fingers, and then looked up at his love again. Blood, his mind kept repeating.

"It is yours," Alexander asked, worry creeping into his voice. Hephaestion was about to reply, but Alexander silenced him, again placing a finger over his lips. He wiped more blood away, eyes wide, and then pulled Hephaestion up with him. Wrapping his arms around him, he held him, arm tensed in his hair.

"By the gods," Alexander whispered, "this is the night."


	5. Night Begins

Title: Gone

**Title**: Gone

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: PG-13

**Warnings**: Angst. Likely sexual content, violence, language to come later.

**Chapter**: 5 of unknown, "Night Begins"

**Summary**: Excerpt –there was no love between them, not now, not so far away from where they had first set eyes upon one another. The love was gone, and all around them knew it, but neither was willing to mention it. The vacancy instead remained between them.

**A/N**: Back to my roots, let me know what you think.

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His fingernails now bled at the ends; never before had he chewed his nails so far back, but at the moment, he could not feel the pain and took no note of the blood. Instead, he continued to stare at the scene displayed before him, the man leaning over the bed, placing a gentle hand on Hephaestion's side. The man was whispering something, something the king could not hear, and then he put a hand on Hephaestion's forehead and stared down at him. Alexander felt a pang of jealousy. Why was this doctor staring at Hephaestion so? Did he not realize that he had no right? Alexander tore away another sliver of nail, and then paced forward, coming up to the opposing side of the bed. The doctor had his eyes closed now, as if listening, and shortly he pulled his hands away and nodded at Hephaestion. He then backed away from the bed and waited for the king to meet him.

"What is it," Alexander asked, taking time to stop tearing at his fingers. This was the third physician that he had spoken with in the last hour. The first had spent the most time with Hephaestion, looking him up and down, asking him many things, but in the end had told Alexander it was nothing he knew. In such, it was nothing curable and the king would do well just to make his friend comfortable. Alexander, furious, had banished the Greek back to his Grecian coasts. This had led to the invitation for a second man, who again looked Hephaestion over, but again came to the same conclusion. Perhaps a Persian would know, the cause of Hephaestion's troubles could after all be something that only infected their lands. However, judging by the look on this man's face, he knew nothing more than the first had.

"There are bad feelings in him," the doctor said under his breath, trying to keep his words from Hephaestion, who had pushed himself up onto his elbows to listen. Alexander glanced over his shoulder, glaring at him as only a concerned lover could, and Hephaestion lay back on the bed with a sigh. He hated being the object of Alexander's concern, but for the moment decided that he would play the part, if only to soothe Alexander's troubles. Perhaps Alexander no longer loved him, no longer warmed his bed in the nights or snuck secret glanced at him at banquets, no longer touched him gently on the back when he thought about him, no longer spoke to him in any whispered words, but despite the love being gone, there was still an inevitable friendship.

"Bad feelings don't make people cough up blood," the king negated, grabbing the doctor by the forearm and jerking him farther away from Hephaestion's bed. "Three doctors, three doctors and still none of you can tell me anything. What do you know!"

"High king," the doctor pleaded, raising an arm to fend him away should he begin to strike at him, "I assure you that this man can be cured. He can be cured."

"How," Alexander asked, taking a step away from the physician in hopes of making him more comfortable. "Whatever it is, whatever it costs, if someone has to be killed, I do not care. Do whatever you must, do you understand?"

"Calm my king," the man said, "there are things to do. You must pray, must ask your gods to spare his life. Then, a journey is ahead of you both. You must go into the forbidden woods, the sacred woods where the herbs he needs grow. It is a dangerous, dangerous journey. None have made it in years, but you must. You must if you want to save him."

"I'll send someone, just tell me what it is, and they will find it."

"No, no," the doctor almost chuckled, "there is no one that will go. Some may not make it back. Many never have made it back. If you want to save him, you two must go."

"He is in no health to travel!"

"Better now than if it worsens. Here, I will write down what it is you need, and a little drawing. After, you can follow my instruction. He will not want to eat it, his body will not want to accept it, but you must have him eat three spoons of this mixture. Three, and he will be fine. Understand?"

"He cannot travel," Alexander hissed.

"The leaves must be pulled from the earth, and they die quickly. You will never make it back with them. Not with the life you need inside of them. He must go with you, you must both go. There is no other way."

Alexander had turned, and stated at Hephaestion for a moment, pondering if this was the worst idea he had ever heard. Hephaestion had propped himself up again and had taken a pen and a piece of parchment and had begun to write something. Alexander wondered if it was a letter, a letter to another, the one that now filled his heart. Blinking, he found himself looking away. It was best, he decided, not to know. Sighing, he nodded to the doctor and showed him toward a desk upon which ink and parchment sat. He began to scrawl something down and the king glanced over his shoulder, again at Hephaestion. Truly, would he be writing to another with Alexander so close? Perhaps it was something else though, for Hephaestion was now folding it, and handed it to a Page that stood close to the bed. The page leaned in for instruction, nodded, and then left the room in a hurry. Well, it must be something of some importance. Saddened by this, Alexander turned his attention back to the physician, who was carefully explaining how to cure his beloved.

Hephaestion had handed his last requests to the Page and had asked him to take this to Alexander's chambers. Place it on his bureau, he had asked, where Alexander would fail to look for some time. Hephaestion knew that he did not have long. He could feel his body trembling inside, though he remained still, and he felt his body burning already, though to others he was feeling colder than usual. He paled, sighed, and then had written every last word he wanted to say to Alexander. It was not much, a mere statement of his love, and a request that he not be mourned. Instead, burn him quickly, and toss him into a stream. Someday, he would reunite with the Mediterranean, he hoped. Everything he had was given to him by Alexander, so it made sense to give it back to him. Still, there was something terrifying about writing his own last request, as if he had given up before a battle had started. Soon though, Alexander turned and approached, drawing him from his thoughts.

"Just a passing sickness," Alexander lied, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He felt like reaching out and taking Hephaestion's hand, but decided not to. In fact, just before he did the door opened, and Bagoas entered. Hephaestion's eyes drifted over to him, but then left the eunuch. He no longer took much notice of him, which in truth, scared Alexander. Before he had looked at him with jealousy, as if he feared to lose something, but he now looked almost defeated. Perhaps he had already lost something? Alexander decided against taking his hand, but did manage to reach out and touch Hephaestion's beard, which if he were honest with himself he had never liked. It made Hephaestion seem unapproachable.

"You lie horribly," Hephaestion smirked, allowing Alexander's closeness, where a day or two before he would have batted his hand away. The desire still came over him. He could not trust him, not with Bagoas running around scantily clad, and he would not risk getting him sick.

"And if I were not lying?"

"Then the corner of your mouth would not twitch so," he answered. He stared at Alexander for a moment and then frowned, wanting badly to say something, but still he was unable to find the words. He tried despite this, "Have you written your mother recently?"

"What?"

"She worries about you, Alexander. Please, write her. Make some time for just a quick note, just to show her that you still remember her."

"Where did that come from," the king asked, finally brave enough to take Hephaestion's hand and play with his fingers. Hephaestion did not answer, instead he blinked and looked away, unable to meet Alexander's glance. Alexander released his hand and then stood.

"I will send for a bath," Alexander announced. "You can clean up, and then we will discuss this trip we will be taking."

"You are needed here, please, do not let me burden you."

"You have never been my burden," Alexander quickly stated, wanting to shake Hephaestion for ever thinking such a thing. Instead, he stood dumbfounded at the door. Saying nothing, he then left.

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Hephaestion wondered what would happen if his hand slipped, if he suddenly coughed and the blade at his neck dug into his throat. Would it be so terrible to end it quickly, without pain? Holding tightly to the blade, his knuckles whitening, he cursed under his breath and dropped the razor. His face smooth now, he pulled his fur robe over his shoulders. He'd already put on a crème colored chiton, but still he felt as if winter had already come. Rubbing his hands together, he then turned, and nearly gasped when he saw Cassander.

"I did not mean to frighten you," Cassander announced, smirking. Scaring Hephaestion would just be his bonus for the day. "Alexander asked me to come find you. He says that you are ready to leave."

"Thank you."

"You promised me a boar hunt," the other said, quickly throwing his arms around the blue-eyed general and hugging him. Pushing away, he nodded, then pointed at him menacingly. "You vowed. Take it back, and you'll rot with Hades' cock in you."

Hephaestion laughed as he watched him go. It was the first time he'd laughed in weeks. Odd, that such vulgarity had this effect on him. However, it still felt good to be alive.


	6. Journey

Title: Gone

**Title**: Gone

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: PG-13

**Warnings**: Angst. Likely sexual content, violence, language to come later.

**Chapter**: 6 of unknown, "Journey"

**Summary**: Excerpt –there was no love between them, not now, not so far away from where they had first set eyes upon one another. The love was gone, and all around them knew it, but neither was willing to mention it. The vacancy instead remained between them.

**A/N**: Sorry everyone for the huge delay in posting. You know how it is, life coming at you in every direction, and you don't have the time to do the one thing that you would like to do. Well, here's the next chapter.

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The restless nights were not new to him, the tossing and turning in his sleep, but slowly he was growing fond of the nightmares that he was having. The tunnel in his darkened mind seemed to go on forever, darkness enveloping him all the way, but soon enough he reached the flames at the end. Hand outstretched, he let the dancing flames lap at his skin, which did not sear or burn, but instead remained rather like porcelain. Looking up, he caught the eyes of another, who stared at him with her eyebrows raised, her dark eyes looking him up and down. She then stood, a black dress swirling about her, and began to approach him, like she did every other night. However, she came deliberately slowly, and while she took her time he began to feel a sharp pain in his chest. His sternum seemed to be crushing him, the air slowly being cut off as the flames he touched grew bigger, wrapping up his arms. Soon, she stood before him, smirking with that evil grin, and she reached out, placing a burning hand on his cheek. Drawing herself up against him, so that he could feel her breasts against his labored breathing, her thigh against his own, she placed a kiss to his temple, and then to his neck, just below the ear.

"Hephaestion," she whispered warmly against his neck, twirling a finger in the hair at the base of his neck. "Hephaestion, gift from Hephaestus, tell me, do you appreciate my lair, my hideaway from the world?"

"Let me be," Hephaestion responded, trying desperately to urge her away from him. It was always like this, pushing and shoving, but she would not move. Finally she grabbed his wrists and caught him with her piercing eyes, forcing him to stare deeply into her eyes. She then smiled, blood burning in her eyes, and released his wrists, and once more he could not move. He felt his burning wrists, the seared skin, but did not look down. Instead, he listened to her laugh.

"It is near," she whispered, and upon doing so, the flames rose up, wrapping around him, and covering him completely. He let out a scream, and instantly was sitting up in the tent, Alexander's arms around him, his brown eyes looking over him desperately.

"What is it," Alexander asked, placing a hand on Hephaestion's shoulder. Hephaestion drew a breath in quickly and then brushed his hand away. Alexander was forced to stare after him as he stood and left the tent, letting the cool winds of the forests soothe him. Tilting his head back he took in the air, and listened to Alexander pad up behind him.

"Are there still so many secrets between us," the king asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Hephaestion slowly turned and shrugged ever so lightly. Alexander remained at his side though, and unhesitant reached out and wiped the sweat from Hephaestion's brow, pushing back his soaked hair as well.

"Discord," Hephaestion replied, combing a hand through his hair. In truth, he did not want to worry Alexander, but knowing that the end was near, was there a point really in entering these woods? Sucking in a pained breath, he looked down at his wrists, but there were no marks. There was nothing at all. Alexander continued to watch him, unsure of what he was searching for, but then stepped in front of him. Hephaestion glanced up, giving him a clear view of his cerulean eyes, but then averted them.

"Do I disgust you so much that you will not even look at me?"

"No," Hephaestion answered, shaking his head. The wind had picked up again, but he could not say that he minded. The ice felt good against the fire of his skin. "I just…"

"Please tell me."

"Sometimes, I fear that we no longer know one another. We've been so close for so long we've forgotten that in the time we've changed. You're not the boy that I left Pella with, you're a man now, a great king, one that I can no longer vie with. Oh," he inserted quickly, "do not think that I'm saying I have not changed, for I have too. We are both different men, and sometimes I fear that we don't know anything about the other, not now."

"And this is why Discord comes to you in your dreams, a goddess of conflict and malice? Does she come only to confuse you, to set you against me?"

"She sets me against no one, my king."

"You don't even say my name anymore," Alexander finally laughed, kicking a small stone with his foot. Hephaestion did not have time to argue with him. A sudden coughing fit took over his body, crumpling him to his knees, where he dug his fingers into the moistened ground and coughed. At first he thought that nothing would come, not even air, but then there was the blood. He felt at first as if he was wretching nothingness, and instantly there was blood, and a good cupful at that. He reached up and tried to wipe the blood from his mouth before Alexander could, but as always Alexander was willing to butt into matters that he shouldn't.

"Shh," the king cooed, wrapping his arms around Hephaestion and pulling his head against his chest. He ran a hand over Hephaestion's head, twirling his fingers in his hair now and then. Slowly Hephaestion crumpled against him, wrapping his arms around him, and as the sun began to break over the horizon, his sobs came.

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Cassander turned the down-stuffed pillow over once more before tossing it across the room. Another entered his hands, but still he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Cursing he had to find yet another pillow, and this time he picked up a smaller ornamental red pillow. He was about to toss it into the pile before he felt something inside, a harder lump, which could not be feathers even if they were wet. Cursing, he pulled his dagger from his side and tore into the pillow, spilling feathers throughout the room. As he did so the small bundle of dried herb fell to the floor. Kneeling, he grasped the bundle and examined it in the sunlight.

"Interesting," he muttered, pinching the herbs with his fingers. He then stood as another approached. Upon turning, he saw Bagoas, who stared at the floor as soon as he knew there were others in the rooms. Cassander took the bough and placed it behind his back, but continued to glare at the youth.

"The king is not here, nor is Hephaestion. Is there a reason for you to be in their wing at all," Cassander asked, his voice commanding.

"Are your reasons accepted for mine?"

Cassander cocked an eyebrow and then shook his head before laughing. He feared that the child would never learn Greek. It would soon be his downfall, for eventually all would turn against him. Ironically enough, it was often Hephaestion who protected him when the Companions spoke ill of him. Perhaps, as Hephaestion stated, it was not entirely Bagoas' fault that he was in this world, one in which he had to please a king to live and upset that king's Companions –but Cassander wasn't buying it. Bagoas knew well enough what he did, he just wouldn't be held accountable for it.

"Have you seen this before," Cassander asked, holding his hand out, allowing Bagoas to see the bough of dried herbs that he held. The boy could not help but let his eyes go wide. This meant only one thing, that Cassander's fears were true. Hephaestion was not sick…he had been poisoned.


	7. Journey, Part II

Title: Gone

**Title**: Gone

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: PG-13

**Warnings**: Angst. Likely sexual content, violence, language to come later.

**Chapter**: 7 of unknown, "Journey Part II"

**Summary**: Excerpt –there was no love between them, not now, not so far away from where they had first set eyes upon one another. The love was gone, and all around them knew it, but neither was willing to mention it. The vacancy instead remained between them.

**A/N**: Sorry everyone for the huge delay in posting. You know how it is, life coming at you in every direction, and you don't have the time to do the one thing that you would like to do. Well, here's the next chapter.

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It did not matter that the sun was high in the sky, he still felt tired, as if he had not slept for days. Blinking, he stepped forward, nearly slipping on the crooks and vines. Nonetheless, he went on, following Alexander, who was cutting through bushes ahead. Drawing a breath the world blurred for a moment, swaying, and before he knew it, he hit the ground. Darkness came easily to him. When Hephaestion began to stir he felt a soft breath against his cheek, a light wind against his back, cool water surrounding him from the waist down. Slowly his eyes opened, and when they did so, blurry bushes sprung up around him. He heard a small waterfall, the sound of a single bird, and then the desperate voice of Alexander, who held him close. The world became clearer, and as it did so he felt Alexander's arm wrapped around his waist, felt his hip next to his, his thigh brushing him, a hand running up and down his back. It made no sense for a moment, but then Alexander was staring down at him, tears in his eyes.

"I was so worried," Alexander muttered, the tears now fleeing from the corners of his eyes, staining his cheeks. He looked completely frazzled, his hair matted in some areas, sticking out in some other areas. Hephaestion could only smile.

"You're a mess," Hephaestion whispered, loosely hanging in Alexander's arms now. Alexander set him against the bank, where the water was much shallower, and once again ran his hands over his body. He had missed this, missed this like a dying man missed air, and only now did he dare to touch his Hephaestion, his gift from Eros, from Zeus and Aphrodite, from all of the gods that had blessed him. Hephaestion did not seem to mind, not now, but instead tilted his head back, lips slowly parting until he let out a soft sigh. So, he was not repulsed by his touches.

"Let me know you," Alexander whispered, coming closer so that now his chest was even with Hephaestion's, their bodies now molded against one another. Hephaestion's head was still tilted back, and for a moment Alexander worried that once again he had fallen to the darkness. Yet he then raised his head, cerulean eyes meeting Alexander's, and without protest he leaned in to him, passionately ensnaring Alexander's lips with his own. It had been too long for both of them, and their kisses were hardened, rough, but both were men, unworried about harming the other in the heat of the moment.

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Cassander tossed the vial to Ptolemy and raised an eyebrow. The other looked at it for a moment, both trying to determine what to do. Cassander had already sent Bagoas back to his rooms, where he was to remain. The boy had nothing to do with the poisoning. He broke down in tears too quickly, and worse, it was too believable. Before long he was having trouble breathing and was about to pass out. However, Hephaestion had been poisoned by someone within the palace. It had to have been someone that no one would wonder about, but who?

"Have you seen it before," Cassander asked the other.

"Yes, but I'm afraid that it either makes no sense, or is the worst treason that we have ever seen."

"Out with it."

Ptolemy signed, "I saw Alexander with this same vial. How it ended up in Hephaestion's rooms, I cannot know. They do not visit one another in the nights, and they hardly speak to one another even at festivals. How could Hephaestion have received this? But if you are right, and this is poison, it was meant for the king…otherwise…"

"No," Cassander negated, shaking his head. "Alexander would never attempt to murder Hephaestion. Dislike him at times, perhaps, but he would never. You know him as well as I, do you think he would ever harm him?"

"Not intentionally, no."

"Then who is it?"

"What, do you want me to guess, right now? Fine, but that isn't going to solve anything."

"We must end this, and we must get word to Alexander before they get too far into the woods. You heard what the medicine man said, hardly any ever come back."

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Gently Alexander lay Hephaestion back, his body trembling above his as Hephaestion ran a hand over his sculpted chest. Leaning down, he kissed him deeply, his tongue running over his lower lip. Hephaestion's mouth opened, granting him access. For a man sick with some illness that neither could name he seemed almost fine now, a bit weak perhaps, but he still wrapped an arm around Alexander's neck and pulled him down against him. Their tongues danced like fire as the wind swept up around them, the grasses shielding them from the world that passed them by. Already disrobed, Alexander ran his hands over Hephaestion's thighs, warming him tenderly, lovingly.

"Wait," Hephaestion stilled, taking Alexander's wrist and stilling him before he could touch him where he most desired. "Promise me something first."

"Anything," the other answered, running a finger gently over the line of Hephaestion's jaw. How perfect he was. Even now, in his moment of weakness, he was the strongest man that Alexander knew.

"If I die…"

"Never!"

"No, listen to me. If I die, if anything should happen to me, never blame yourself. Will you promise me this? Promise me that even after I am gone, no matter the cause, that you will not let this grieve your heart."

"I shall always do as you wish," the king replied, smiling softly as he pressed a kiss against his forehead. "I shall always do as you ask."

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The woman picked up the spoon and then swung, the liquid that she had created was now cast. It hit the tabletop and then she peered over it, intently looking as the prophets would the intestines of animals. Nose wrinkled from the smell of rotting carcasses, Cassander watched quietly, hoping that he would never again need to come here. Still he wondered why it was that the dirty jobs had to be done by him.

"Deadly," the woman answered, nodding. Cassander still considered wringing her neck. These simple things always seemed to take all day. However, she finally looked up.

"The man you seek," she explained, "is likely no man. This has a woman's touch, this vile liquid here. The poison comes from a dark red and purple flower, found often in the midst of women, who wear them in their hair. It takes many to kill though, very much liquid."

"And no man could make this?"

"Surely a man could, but it is a woman that has done this. I assure you, no man here could make such a potion, and no Greek could do it either."

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"Ahhh," Alexander growled, a hand wrapped in Hephaestion's long hair. Hephaestion lifted himself up, his back leaving the grass, and kissed Alexander once more, driving him mad all over again. Wrapped in one another's arms, they let the wind blow over them, the grass licking the sweat from their bodies.

"Phae," Alexander whispered minutes later.

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry for my errors."

"Could I love you without them," Hephaestion asked.

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A/N: Short, I know, but with so many things going on in my life right now, I do have to make them a bit shorter. Thank you to everyone who keeps reminding me to write. You truly make this story possible.


	8. Vial

Title: Gone

**Title**: Gone

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: PG-13

**Warnings**: Angst. Likely sexual content, violence, language to come later.

**Chapter**: 8 of unknown, "Vial"

**Summary**: Excerpt –there was no love between them, not now, not so far away from where they had first set eyes upon one another. The love was gone, and all around them knew it, but neither was willing to mention it. The vacancy instead remained between them.

**A/N**: Sorry everyone for the huge delay in posting. You know how it is, life coming at you in every direction, and you don't have the time to do the one thing that you would like to do. Well, here's the next chapter.

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Back against the cooled column he watched as her hair floated around her in the night's wind. How mischievous the world was, lightened one moment and completely darkened in the next. She was no different, her darkened eyes glittering as the light of the homes below caught them, but this darkness was not voided by the light. She was evil through and through, and he'd known it all along. He'd known it, but said nothing. When finally she turned her hand flew to her bare breast, and she caught her breath, unaware that he'd been watching her now for a good half hour.

"Tell me," Cassander said, pushing himself off of the wall, "how it is that you bare yourself to the city when your husband is not about."

"I was speaking to a woman's goddess," she whispered, averting her eyes from him, but not because she was afraid, but instead embarrassed. "You must speak to her in your truest form, or she does not hear your pleas."

"What pleas could you have," the other laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Everything that you need has been given to you. But I am not here to judge. I'm here to ask you about the poisoning of Hephaestion."

"What are you talking about," she asked, her eyes growing wide as she took a step back.

"Oh, you know," Cassander declared. "A poison, placed in a small vial, which could have easily been mixed in with his drink, and he never would have suspected you, his loving wife. Drypetis," he sighed, "Drypetis what am I going to do with you?"

"I did nothing," she screamed as he wrapped a hand around her wrist, pulling her forward. But he did not touch her as she feared, did not violate her. Instead, he pushed the shoulder strap of her dress back upon her shoulder, covering her. "My Lord Cassander, you must believe me. I did not do any such thing to Hephaestion! My choice in husbands he was not, but this does not mean that I would do harm to him. You must believe me!"

"I do, I do," Cassander soothed her. "Yet there is much going on and I need for you to listen to me. Blame will be placed upon you, by myself and by Ptolemy, by others as well. We know you are innocent, but the real culprit must feel safe, do you understand?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Good. You are an honorably woman, Drypetis."

"My Lord," she bowed, and then he was gone.

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He was still tired as they entered the forest, but he would not let Alexander see this, not this time. Instead, he continued on and on, until he felt like if they went any more they would both exhaust themselves. But soon enough Alexander stopped and glanced over his shoulder, waiting for Hephaestion. As great as he was, even the king tired, which Hephaestion did not mind.

"Are you feeling well," Alexander asked, placing a hand on Hephaestion's cheek. The stubble was gone; oh how he loved it when his face was smooth as if was now.

"Better," Hephaestion lied. In truth he was feeling worse and worse. But he smiled before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to Alexander's lips to silence him. Whatever this was it was not going to harm Alexander; it was plaguing only him.

"Honestly? You must tell me if for a moment you feel weak, do you understand? I don't want to repeat yesterday."

"You don't," Hephaestion asked, raising an eyebrow.

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After taking some time to think things over, Bagoas picked up the vial that he had been toying with. Ptolemy began to look away but like any curious Macedonian could not. It was predicted that this draught would only harm a man not accustomed to it, especially a Greek man. If he were to drink this and live, then the predictions of the witch would be right. It would at least narrow the suspects down to a woman, for if one piece fit, the others would soon fall into place. Yet if he soon grew ill, died even, he would have done it serving Alexander, and Hephaestion he supposed. It was a simple choice for him. If Hephaestion died, Alexander would be devastated, so devastated that he would be in constant pain. He would shut himself away from the world, perhaps kill himself, but he would not be reachable. Bagoas would not live with him then, not if he could not touch him, could not hold him, could not help him.

"Only drink it if you are sure," Ptolemy again advised, always trying to protect Bagoas, as if the youth did not understand what was going on.

"I am," Bagoas assured those that watched. Cassander was still smirking, probably pleased. If Bagoas died he would not mind. If he didn't, well, then it was his idea anyway. For him there was nothing to lose here. Uncorking the vial, he then drank deeply.

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A/N: As always, I'm working on limited time. Sorry for the short responses. In about two weeks I'm out of school for the summer though, and will have mega time to pamper my readers with longer chapters and better stories.


	9. Cure

**Title**: Gone

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: PG-13

**Warnings**: Angst. Likely sexual content, violence, language to come later.

**Chapter**: 9 of 10, "Mysterious Cure"

**Summary**: Excerpt –there was no love between them, not now, not so far away from where they had first set eyes upon one another. The love was gone, and all around them knew it, but neither was willing to mention it. The vacancy instead remained between them.

**A/N**: Sorry everyone for the huge delay in posting. You know how it is, life coming at you in every direction, and you don't have the time to do the one thing that you would like to do. Well, here's the next chapter.

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Alexander reached down for Hephaestion's hand, wrapping his fingers tightly around his wrist. He pulled firmly upon him, dragging him up the rest of the embankment atop the hill. Once they reached the top Hephaestion fell onto his back, his breath ragged as he stared up at the vines that snaked through the forest. It had gone on like this for far too long. They walked and walked and say nothing, heard nothing, and certainly found no cure in the form of flowers. Drawing in a breath Alexander pushed himself up and began surveying the area, turning around in circles as if the map was in his head. There was nothing to be seen though, merely darkness.

"We should go back," Hephaestion whispered, attempting to rise. He was weak and almost fell backward, yet knew that this would startle Alexander, so he paused for a moment and then finished sitting up. Alexander cut through a group of bushes and then turned, the expression on his face almost horrified.

"We're almost there," the king said, dropping to his knees before his dearest friend. He placed his hand upon his cheek and tipped his head upward, managing to steal a silent soft kiss. Hephaestion knew that he meant well, but it was foolish. They would be lost soon enough and Alexander would not be able to find his way back. The king continued to stare at him, and then looked away, listening to a rustling in the bushes.

"Monkeys?"

"No," Alexander answered, his hand already on the tip of the sword. It was too low to the ground to be birds chasing one another. It sounded like the footfalls of numerous men coming forward. "Come," Alexander said, taking his hand and pulling him upward. "We need to keep moving."

"Wait," Hephaestion said, stilling Alexander by placing a hand on his shoulder. He then listened to the unchained melody that drifted through the thick of the forest. It was a song in a language he could not identify, but for a moment he thought that the rise and fall of the songstress' voice was familiar. "Do you hear that? I think I've heard it before, but I cannot think of when."

"We have to keep moving," Alexander urged.

"No," the other answered quickly, taking a step away from him and toward the darkened forest. Alexander scanned the area, hearing the sounds of impending others, and muttered a curse under his breath. He heard nothing, but did not have the heart to tell Hephaestion. His fever must be worsening.

"Hephaestion it is nothing," he finally said, wishing that there was indeed something to be heard other than the sounds of danger. Hephaestion ignored him though and continued on, looking for something that was not to be found. He tore through a bush, nearly bringing himself to the ground, but then stopped and listened to the silence that surrounded them once more. Turning to the left he went deeper into the forest, Alexander in a rush to keep up with him. He still heard nothing. Cursing as a large vine ensnared his leg and brought him to the ground he then looked up for Hephaestion. He was nowhere to be seen.

"Hephaestion!"

There was no answer so he cried out again, and again only silence was returned. Where had he gone off to so quickly? Had this all along been some trap? No, it could not be, for he still heard the sounds of footfalls behind him. As he pushed himself up from the ground he turned, meeting the heavy ended club that slammed into the side of his face. He fell to the ground gasping for air and spitting blood. The world spun as he tried to crawly away, tried to prepare himself for a battle. He grabbed onto the root, and he heard the singing, heard the whispering. With a sudden movement he launched himself up, ducking a blow that was meant for his skull. Sword in hand he lunged forward, sinking the wound into the belly of a man. Then, he froze. Another of these men held Hephaestion, hand placed over his mouth so that he could not scream. A blade was pressed to his throat and already Alexander could see that the blade was leaving a deep, bleeding cut. Any more pressure and Hephaestion would be in trouble.

"Let him go," Alexander ordered, Hephaestion's eyes fixed upon him. His hands had been forced behind his back and he now tried to struggle free. "I said let him go!"

"Ma-hee della farik," a soft voice said from behind the king. He turned, the tip of his sword pressed against her throat. She reached up, placing her hand on the blade, and moved his steel aside. She approached the man that held Hephaestion then and repeated the same foreign words, which Alexander now took as her orders. He saw the flowers that decorated her hair, and the flowers that formed the belt at her waist, and thought for a moment about what the healers had said about them. There must be the flowers. Upon her words the man that held the blade to Hephaestion's throat removed the blade, but not his hand, and did not let him go. He still struggled in his grasp, only causing the man to tighten his grip on Hephaestion's arm.

"You are a long way from your home, Macedonian," the woman then said, turning back to face Alexander. Her hair was dark and her eyes were the color of pure honey, her skin the color of mocha mixed with olives. He had seen her before, but he could not think of from where. The harem perhaps? No, what would a harem girl be doing so far from the palace, and in these woods with barbarians nonetheless?

"Who are you?"

"I am the earth, the air, the fire, and the water. I am everything that surrounds you, but I am also nothing. I am love, and I am hate, right and wrong. What things you can name I am, but I am not."

"I am…"

"I know who you are," she told him, keeping him quiet. She turned her attention back to Hephaestion and pulled a flower from her hair. Holding it under his nose she began to hum, and Alexander understood then that Hephaestion had heard her all along. Raising a brow, questioning, Hephaestion then sniffed the scent in. He blinked and was perhaps dazed, but already he looked healthier.

"There is a price for such things," the woman then said, looking at Alexander. "Many have not agreed to these prices. This is why so many do not return. They warned you about this, that I know, I heard them, and I knew they would. You are their king, they told you not to go. He is your lover, you promised to protect him long ago. You love the beauty that your Aphrodite has given him, do you not?"

"It is appreciated."

"I would take it from him."

"It is not mine to give," Alexander answered, swallowing after a moment. The woman stood beside Hephaestion, holding a golden lock of hair that had faded against his darker colors. She held it up and then Hephaestion began to sag, the fever suddenly returning in full force.

"Wait," Alexander shouted, stepping forward, yet he was held back by those that accompanied this witch of the forests. He looked at Hephaestion, looked at how he was sinking to the ground, and how his eyes began to sink into his head. His breathing was slow. Swallowing, he made his decision; "Take it."

"You would sacrifice his beauty? To me?"

"To you or any other that would keep him from this," he replied, not even taking the time to consider this again, nor to take a breath. Once more he tried to push past the guards, but they stopped him.

The woman approached Hephaestion again. She took the golden lock once more and with a sudden jerk ripped the hairs from his head. Twining them amongst her fingers she smiled, a toothless grin, and then looked at the youth before her. He opened his eyes and took in a sudden breath, needing it badly. He was alert then and struggled against those that held him, however, he was held in firm hands. His eyes went to the king, the golden haired king that had come so far to protect him.

"He values you," the woman then said, her finger tipping Hephaestion's head up. "He is their king, they told him not to go," she said once more. "He came to save your life. I will save one of you. The decision is yours. If I save you, you return to the home that you have not seen in so long. The Empire will go to you, if you desire. All will be peaceful and you will live a long, pleasant life. But," she added, "if I save King Alexander, he will forget of you entirely. He'll not even recall your name, and while he goes on with another, Cassander the son of Antipater perhaps, while you are torn apart by buzzards. A piece of skin a day until it is all gone. It will take many days. Who do I save?"

"Send him back," Hephaestion replied, no hesitation. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her close so that he could repeat his words. "Spare Alexander's life."

"He will forget you, you will mean nothing to him!"

"But he will always mean everything to me."

Alexander made a sudden move forward but it was no use. He watched as the woman pulled a blade from her side, which until now he had not seen. Instantly, she raked it across Hephaestion's throat. Then, she took a flower from her hair and stuck it over the wound, which then healed. Hephaestion did not move against her as she hummed something in his ear. Dropping the flower, she took a step back.

"You both would pay high prices," she said. "You are the first to pass this test. Go home, the forests will part to you. But do not return here Alexander of Macedon. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Alexander nodded. He would do anything to keep Hephaestion safe, even if it meant turning away from these forests as far as his campaign was concerned. She backed away, and as she did so Hephaestion approached him, silent but watching everything that went on around him.

"The forests will part," she said again, before seemingly disappearing into the thickest of the forest, leaving the King and his closest Companion standing side by side in awe.


	10. Returning Home

Title: Gone

**Title**: Gone

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: PG-13

**Warnings**: Sexual content in this chapter; no sex, just the mere suggestion of sex.

**Chapter**: 10 of 10, "Returning Home"

**Summary**: Excerpt –there was no love between them, not now, not so far away from where they had first set eyes upon one another. The love was gone, and all around them knew it, but neither was willing to mention it. The vacancy instead remained between them.

**A/N**: I'm sorry that this isn't good…I'm not sure where I was going with it an after the long break, well, I don't like it. BUT…thank you for reading it anyway.

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"Hephaestion," Alexander gasped, dropping to his knees before Hephaestion, who upon the departure of the woman and her minions had fallen to the ground. Alexander leaned over him and immediately reached for his throat. There was no sign of the wound that had been there, but instead, there was only the smell of flowers. Hephaestion coughed and his body jerked upward and his own hand flung to Alexander's chest. He shoved him away forcefully and drew in a quick breath of air, feeling as if the jungle was closing in around him. Then, he froze and went still, his breathing no longer labored and the color had begun to come back to his face.

"What did she do to you," Alexander asked, throwing himself over Hephaestion once more, staring down at him again. He brushed the hair away from his face and looked deep into his cerulean eyes, searching for any signs of sickness. He touched his throat again, but there was still only the lingering scent of flowers. Not even a thin scar or the hint of a scab remained.

"I feel better," Hephaestion whispered, sitting up and blinking momentarily. "Everything felt foggy, as if there were clouds, and now…nothing. The burning is gone."

"Then her promise to let us go was true."

"Who," Hephaestion then asked, his brows furrowing together as he thought. Alexander continued to look over his body and then heard what he said. "I remember we were walking through the forest, and then…I was looking up and into your eyes. But I smelled flowers, even when everything was cloudy, I could smell the flowers. What happened? Did you find what the doctors said to, or have I just fallen asleep, or worse, to fever?"

"No," Alexander replied, shaking his head and trying to hold back tears. "No there is no fever. The flowers you smell are the flowers of the gods, those that the physician told us to look for. You're better now, and that is all that matters. "

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying; I just can't stand the scent of the flowers any longer. Come," he said as he looked up at the sunlight and how it had begun to fade against the sky, a sign of the setting sun, "let me help you up, we need to leave by nightfall."

"We are too far in. I don't think that we're going to make it out of the forest by the end of the night, and even if we do, we'll be without shelter and on our way back to the palace without cover," Hephaestion protested. He allowed Alexander to help him up and then began to follow him as Alexander started quickly hacking his way through the forests.

"Are we on a deadline that I'm unaware of?"

"Quickly," the king advised. "Trust me, if you think things were foggy before, they'll only be worse if we don't leave her forest by nightfall."

"Who," Hephaestion asked once more, reaching out and catching a branch before it smacked Alexander across the face. He carefully released it and then looked at Alexander once again. "What did I miss?"

"The flowers that they sent us to find were only hard to find because they belong to some goddess that watches these forests. No one returns because her stakes for the cure are high."

"Are you alright," Hephaestion laughed, raising an eyebrow. He then paused, taking note of the seriousness of Alexander's look. "Truly?"

"We need to remove ourselves before tonight. She said the forests would open to us, but they haven't done so yet. It is this way though, and if we keep a good pace, we'll be out before dark."

"And if we are not?"

"She takes her gift back," he answered, reaching back and running a hand over Hephaestion's cheek. "So we must go, because I will not let you go."

"What price did you have to pay," Hephaestion then asked of him as they continued on their way, the path getting clearer and clearer as they did so. Alexander did not answer at first and Hephaestion thought that perhaps he did not hear him. "Alexander, what price did you need to pay for the cure?"

"None I was not willing to be without."

"What?"

"I'm not entering these forests again. The Empire will not expand in this direction."

"But I thought that you believed this to be the way to the oceans."

"Maybe that is why she protects it then," he responded.

"Then why would you tell her that you would not enter again? Why not strike an accord with her?"

"The accord would have been your life," Alexander offered, stopping and turning to face him. Gently he placed a hand on his cheek and softly kissed his forehead. "I would never trade you. I would give this all away if only to have you for another day."

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Cassander looked at the vial once more. Bagoas stood before him, perfectly fine. The youth shrugged a shoulder and then took another sip of water from the cup that Ptolemy had offered him. So, this could not be the poison then. Unless it only took wrath on some certain individuals, but was such even possible? Cassander doubted it, and he placed the vial back down on the table.

"How does it work?"

"I told you," Bagoas said once more. "Some things cannot be explained."

There was silence then, and one of the guards shouted something out in the hallway. Cassander lifted his eyes, as did Ptolemy. There was more silence and then again he heard the sound of guards shouting something.

"What is that," Cassander asked.

"Alexander and Hephaestion have returned," another guard said, breaking into the room. "Hephaestion, Lords, they say that Hephaestion has been cured!"

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"Just relax," Alexander said, carefully removing the rest of the fabric that covered Hephaestion's body. Hephaestion sunk beneath the cold water and tilted his head back, accepting another of Alexander's soft kisses. The guards had finally let them be, and though Cassander and Ptolemy were still not satisfied with the explanation of how the cure had come to fix Hephaestion almost instantly, they too had gone to their own rooms.

"They're in the other room" Hephaestion whispered, placing his hand on Alexander's and moving it back to his chest. He then looked back up at him, perfectly content, and kissed him softly. It was as if no time had passed between them, but even after their bath they could both still smell the sweet scent of the flowers that lingered against Hephaestion's throat and in his hair.

"They're asleep," Alexander assured him, returning his hand to Hephaestion's thigh. Hephaestion did not mind this, not this time. Instead, he let Alexander's hand linger and he then kissed Alexander deeply on the mouth, making sure to press his tongue against his lower lip, begging for entrance.

"I have to wake up early in the morning," Hephaestion uttered, breaking away from the kiss if only for a moment.

"No," Alexander whispered back, "you will do nothing but remain in my bed for the rest of the week. Do I make myself perfectly clear," he then asked, kissing his dearest friend once more.

"Perfectly," Hephaestion answered, lips trembling. He wouldn't have it any other way.

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A/N: Not my best work, at all, but it now has an ending. I'm thinking of deleting it and calling it bad writer's block. Let me know what you think. br/br However, "Abandon" is going well, as I'm working on the next chapter. It should turn out much better than this did. Thank you for reading. Baliansword


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